


Luck Would Have It

by dragonlandsandyaoihands



Series: Mad Blood Stirring [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Lance (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Gambling, Knotting, Las Vegas, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Omega Keith (Voltron), Poker, Top Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:45:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonlandsandyaoihands/pseuds/dragonlandsandyaoihands
Summary: Online Poker champ Keith Kogane makes his first visit to Las Vegas. Even making his living as a gambler, he hardly could have predicted that he'd take a chance on his unfairly hot card dealer.





	Luck Would Have It

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always to my brother. I got impatient and posted this before Bro had a chance to look it over/edit it so any and all errors are solely my own.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please come hang out on tumblr at dragonlandsandyaoihands.tumblr.com
> 
> If you're interested in reading more of my writing early access or drabbles that aren't posted on AO3 at all, come check me out at:  
> dragonlandsandyaoihands.tumblr.com for more information in my bio.
> 
> The title is a quote from The Merry Wives of Windsor by Shakespeare. "As good luck would have it."

The phone buzzed, signaling the imminent approach of the Uber driver. Keith sighed and took one last longing look at Mothman before slamming his laptop shut. He gathered up his rolling bag and went out the front door of what Shiro affectionately dubbed his ‘shack’. The house was hardly a shack; it was a comfortable one bedroom/one bathroom. Just because Keith could have afforded some luxury condo in Long Beach didn’t mean his place of residence was a shack. Pursing his lips, Keith opened up the front pouch of his carry-on; searching for a pair of sunglasses he likely forgot to pack. He made sure to keep his phone handy because he knew the driver would inevitably call, confused and lost. As if on cue, his phone vibrated angrily in his palm. Squinting at the screen, Keith saw the unrecognized number.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Hi this is Juan, from Uber. I just got off the freeway but I didn’t see your street…”  
  
Keith tried his best to not snap at the driver as he explained that his street didn’t have a sign and it wasn’t a street so much as a dirt road. It almost made him regret not driving himself to the airport or waiting an extra week to go with Shiro. Almost. Keith didn’t trust airport parking with his precious speeder and he wasn’t exactly happy with Shiro at the moment. It had been Shiro’s idea to go to Las Vegas in the first place, doggedly bugging Keith about it for months. Keith had been perfectly happy earning money at an increasingly alarming rate by playing online and in local amateur tournaments, but Shiro had heard about some exclusive poker tournament at Caesar’s Palace and had eventually worn down Keith’s resistance to playing in person. Shiro had called it ‘playing for real’ which Keith had bristled at. His bank account certainly didn’t think online playing wasn’t real.  
  
Shiro had booked their adjoining rooms in a hurry, before Keith had a chance to change his mind. Technically, the tournament didn’t begin in earnest for nearly two weeks, so he and Shiro weren’t scheduled to go until next week. Keith was right on the cusp of his heat. He was lucky; his heats weren’t nearly as bad as other omegas’ he’d read about. He maintained a clear mind and could mask every day except for the heaviest with a scent-liner pad if necessary. The cramps were awful, but Keith powered through them, the same way he powered through anything unpleasant. No matter how enlightened Shiro was, he’d been raised as a stereotypical alpha by traditional parents and couldn’t let go of the antiquated notion that omegas were in danger during their heats. Keith had protested, wanting to investigate the hotel before the tournament, maybe get a feel for the poker scene in Vegas, but Shiro had adamantly refused. After fruitless arguing, Keith had decided to just go on ahead alone; what Shiro didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. It was more likely that Keith would just spend some quality time face down on his bed in discomfort, but, at heart, Keith was a gambler.  
  
Juan eventually rolled up in a blue Prius with just barely enough room for Keith’s valise in its conservative trunk. After advising him of his destination, Keith shoved in his earbuds and let his eyes fall to half mast, gazing out the window at the desert scape rushing past them. Keith tuned in to reality just long enough to grunt something that resembled a ‘thanks’ at Juan when he clambered out, knowing he’d forget to rate the driver through the app later. He retrieved his suitcase and carry on, grinning slightly at the look on Shiro’s face when he found out that Keith’s two sets of ‘decent’ clothes had spent time shoved unceremoniously in his luggage. Flying was not nearly as much of a pain for him as he'd feared when he was younger. Shiro regaled him regularly with horror stories of flying coach, (in Keith's opinion it didn't sound _that_ bad), so when Keith flew he always chose first class. As a precaution. It hardly mattered in this case; Las Vegas was very close to Southern California. Keith stretched out and put on Wonder Woman, admiring her fighting prowess. He didn't get to finish the movie and made a mental note to watch it later.  
  
After landing, he made his way over to Caesar's Palace, the hotel Shiro had booked them both in and he'd booked himself an extra week in. Keith raised an eyebrow at the gaudy Roman decor and wondered why a famous poker tournament would be held _there._ Grunting to himself, he turned towards the counter again, shrugging at the lack of taste. The room wasn't ready so he left his stuff and headed out to explore the Strip. The Palace seemed pretty cheesy so he walked along the strip in search of something more interesting. His heat always made him restless. As he weaved through drunken, nearly naked people, Keith felt the impending revelation that everything in Vegas was ridiculous. He wasn't sure why he expected otherwise from the "city of sin". Rolling his eyes at the hotel in the shape of a European castle, he stepped inside an upscale looking place with some nice fountains. Wandering around, the place seemed decidedly less cheesy than the others and Keith took an instant liking to it.  
  
Stepping inside a crowded room, Keith glanced around to see what all the fuss was about. It seemed to be Asian inspired, with the centerpiece on one side being a bridge surrounded by vines and flowers woven together in a tunnel, and on the opposite side, an enormous fountain of water pouring from the back of a giant, plant made woman holding aloft a huge pearl. He shuffled through the crowd, examining the various flowers and birds, which might have been made of flowers, and a humongous jug pouring a continuous flow of water, which was definitely made of flowers. Having had quite enough flowers, Keith slipped out and followed the smell of thick smoke to the casino area, eyeing the room critically.  
  
He quickly identified the poker tables, but was debating on which table to choose. He'd been invited to a tournament in Caesar's Palace, which meant he'd been given a small card to mark his status as a player. But he had no idea if that card meant anything here in the...(Keith's eyes darted around to supplement his internal monologue)...Bellagio. So he had to simultaneously ingratiate himself with the casino and show that he had a lot of money to spend. He was familiar with the process; had conducted it online multiple times. Shiro called it wooing, but Keith preferred to think of it as a necessary evil to receive the invites. He'd made a strategy for himself: buy in initially with a small amount, maybe $500, to get a feel for the place overall. Keith wasn't, but many players were superstitious so it wouldn't be seen as unusual to play a few hands at a couple of tables before settling in. For one thing, he needed to know if the other players would try to start shit with him. Omegas were relatively unusual in the card game world, at least as players, and Keith had had more than his fair share of snide remarks from online chat rooms. He had prepared himself for the prejudice to be worse in real life.  
  
However, as he scoped out the room and tried three different tables, no one except the dealer seemed to notice him, and that was just to gather his ante and deal him in. He stepped away briefly for some overpriced food. He was so focused on his strategy that he hardly registered what he was eating, just that it was greasy and filling. His abdomen rolled with cramps so he popped some Advil, sucking obnoxiously on his Sprite. Once the pain had passed, he returned to the tables, determined to make something of the night. Only one hand was any good, but he didn't fold like usual. He had lost a couple hundred at the other tables, but bluffed his way to break even at the last table. Smirking like his night was finally looking up, he declared  
  
"Save my seat. I'm getting more chips. This table is hot."  
  
Judging by the blank stares he received in return, he might have overdone it a little. As he turned away, his smirk faltered. Shiro had forced them both to watch the movie 21 awhile back and Keith wasn't used to having to make chit chat so he'd tried to emulate the characters in the movie. Shrugging to himself, he approached the window and asked for ten thousand in chips. The woman behind the counter gave him a suspicious once over and Keith felt defensive.  
  
"What? You have my ID and my credit card."  
  
Granted, it was only his Chase. The card he used when he didn't want to out himself as a wealthy man. After checking something on her computer, the woman gave him a pained smile.  
  
"Sorry, Mr. Kogane. Here are your chips."  
  
Keith snatched them, probably with more force than necessary because a few went sailing to the floor. He stooped to pick them up, waving off the woman's apologies. As he did so, he slipped a few into his glove on an impulse. He didn't need to cheat; he was plenty skilled and rich enough to take a hit if his skills failed him. He'd bought the chips fair and square. But he wasn't the type to overthink anything, so he palmed the chips and took the rest back to his proclaimed 'hot table'. He knew all the good action was in a back room somewhere and the only way to get an invitation was to impress the house. You had to prove you had a large source of money and you were ready to spend. He didn't have the attention span to sit for six hours at the pleb tables though, so, to speed up his invite, Keith resolved to play fast and loose, the exact opposite strategy of what he normally employed. He wasn't a good actor though, and he didn't want to come off as manic or high, so he maintained control, opening with a $50 bet for each hand. After the situation with the chip window, Keith was worried that the dealer or other players might make a scene, but the dealer didn't even blink. In fact, he just looked like a human version of Droopy, the elevator dog from Roger Rabbit.  
  
Keith didn't know the exact statistics, but he figured that as long as he was losing more money than he was winning, he'd be fine. He'd chosen the 'hot table' due to its proximity to the roving casino representatives, one of whom would eventually invite him to play with the other pros. Soon. Before Keith got frustrated and flipped the table and was booted from the casino. It was hard to be patient while losing, even if he was doing it purposefully. After losing a hefty chunk of change, Keith was finally dealt a hand he couldn't bear to lose with. It would demolish his pride as a player and he deserved a win. He'd been losing for a few solid hours, internally cringing as he discarded good hands, and once excusing himself to the bathroom to roar futilely after he'd wasted a hand that would have been a straight. The other guy doing his business had barely flinched and somehow that made Keith feel worse. He'd be _damned_ if he lost with pocket nines. Nostrils flaring slightly at the thought, he raised before the flop, hoping to recoup some of his hard lost money, but not wanting to scare everyone into folding.  
  
Surprisingly enough, the one person who called his bet and stayed in wasn't one of the blinds, but an elderly man who appeared to be nearly decomposing before Keith's eyes. The only sign of life in the old man was a shrewd glint in his expression and Keith realized that the man had folded nearly every hand since appearing about an hour before. The one time he had played, he'd ended up with a flush. Keith narrowed his eyes. The guy was no amateur, but Keith wasn't fucking around either.  
  
_Bring it on, Gramps._  
  
The flop supported his decision and he had to battle his victorious smirk off of his face before the man noticed. Two nines and a ten. Keith had four of a kind! Just as he began to calculate just how high he could bet while keeping the old man in, the man himself raised to $250. The sheer glee drained out of Keith and he felt the beginnings of sweat gathering under his arms. He shouldn't have worried; only a royal flush could beat four of a kind. And yet...there was something supremely unsettling about the way the man was staring at him. Keith tamped down on his hesitation and smoothly called the bet, adding some chips to the suddenly sizable pot, compared to most of the previous games. Fourth street was a six and neither opponent's expression changed. (Nor did the dealer's "Your bet sir.") Some of the players were getting riled up, rooting for one person or the other. Keith was tempted to snap at them to stop distracting him, but didn't want to come off as anxious, overwhelmed with the need to prove himself to the old stranger. In his single-minded focus, Keith didn't notice the beautiful woman approach the table inquisitively, or how she carefully noted the action.  
  
Keith was the one to raise before the river and he daringly bet a thousand. He regretted it the instant the chips left his hand. Glaring at the old man with a mixture of worry and challenge, he was relieved to watch the bet be matched. His lips twitched in amusement, but Keith was flying high on sugary airplane cookies and adrenaline. The woman raised a hand to hide her smile as she recognized the elderly gentleman's goal. The river was a two and Keith only barely refrained from punching the air in victory. No possible hand could beat him. The man bet $500 and Keith eagerly called, the total pot at $2,330. It obviously wouldn't make up for the $7,500 he'd lost, but it was a start. As Keith laid out his hole cards, he couldn't stop the smug smile. The guy had a pair of tens, including the board. Considering his past cautious behavior, Keith couldn't fathom why the geezer had played along, but he appreciated it nonetheless. The man nodded politely in acknowledgement and gave Keith an enigmatic smile. He grabbed the cane next to his chair and hobbled away, dodging people with surprising agility.  
  
"He's a funny one all right."  
  
Keith startled, whipping his head around to face a frankly gorgeous woman. Her white, slinky dress clung and flattered her curves, contrasting nicely with her rich skin tone. Her hair was done up but the few curls that escaped the bun delicately framed her face. Shiro would have teased him for being so complimentary, but Keith was gay, not blind. What drew his eyes more than her stunning looks though, was an elaborately jeweled necklace, hanging on her long neck. The pendant design was totally foreign to him and the excess of jewels would have seemed ostentatious on a less stately woman. Realizing belatedly that his fascination with her long necklace might be poorly interpreted, he hurriedly jerked his gaze up to her face, blushing slightly. He mumbled something apologetic without meeting her eyes. She simply smiled at him and Keith forcibly removed himself from the interaction before he embarrassed himself further.  
  
Stepping around the woman, he approached the chip window once more, unwilling to go back to losing after that round. The interaction with the white-clad woman afterwards had confirmed his suspicions that the old guy had known he would lose to Keith. The idea of someone pitying him enough to lose that much money in a game Keith prided himself on excelling at just rubbed him the wrong way. His normal recklessness incorporated the prickly feeling and left him nearly stomping to the counter. If he needed to ask for a huge amount in chips and then directions to the back room, fine. Patience yields focus his ass. He practically slammed down his black AMEX, instead of the Chase he'd been using previously, and his ID, leaning forward to snarl at the perplexed woman.  
  
"Five million."  
  
She flinched a little and Keith immediately deflated, scrubbing a hand through his hair and wincing when the few chips in his glove tugged on his sensitive scalp.  
  
"Sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm just a little...frustrated tonight. Five million, please?"  
  
He tried for a small smile. It must have worked to some degree because the woman stopped looking like she was about to call security on his ass. Her face took on a slightly pitying look as she typed in the new credit card information.  
  
"Not having a good night sir?"  
  
Keith shrugged one shoulder and grunted noncommittally. Small talk wasn't his forte. The computer chimed and the woman's eyebrows raised.  
  
"Well, it is about to get better, I should think!"  
  
Bafflingly, she winked at Keith.  
  
"One moment please."  
  
Keith nodded and resettled his weight, acutely aware of the scent liner in his pants and how it chafed uncomfortably. He crossed his arms, not sure what the hold up was. She was speaking quietly into a radio and waiting expectantly. As he politely looked away, surveying the casino at large, he noticed the stunning woman from before striding towards them. He blinked, confused.  
  
"I didn't have the chance to introduce myself to you before. I'm Allura."  
  
She stuck out her hand, a bracelet likely worth more than Keith's entire house jingling softly at the motion. He hesitantly returned the gesture, not surprised at her firm grip.  
  
"Keith. Do you work here?"  
  
Allura smiled at him.  
  
"Not exactly. My job is to find truly spectacular players, like yourself, and encourage them in any way possible. For example, if you'd like to play somewhere a little more private?"  
  
Keith nodded appreciatively. Allura held out two cards to him. He wondered vaguely where she'd pulled them from since he hadn't seen her hands move and she didn't appear to carry a purse. He accepted them and looked them over briskly.  
  
"This is my number, please feel free to get in contact with me if there is anything you need. Tickets to a show, a ride somewhere, a room upgrade, anything like that. The other card you just show at the door and you'll be admitted to our more upscale tables."  
  
Keith recognized the dealer's card from the one he'd been sent as part of his tournament invitation. He glanced up to see Allura scrutinizing him with furrowed brows and he defensively crossed his arms tighter across his chest.  
  
"What?"  
  
Allura hummed uncertainly.  
  
"We do usually have a dress policy, but I'm sure an exception can be made. Unless you would prefer to retire to your room and freshen up? The card does not expire, of course, and neither do the chips."  
  
Keith wasn't a fool and Allura wasn't subtle in her hope that he'd go put on the ritz. No way was that happening though, and he guessed her polite manners would include letting in any sucker willing to spend millions at the casino, no matter what they looked like. He wasn't wearing anything offensive, after all. Black shirt, jeans, and a red jacket. Not fancy by any means, but not awful.  
  
"I think I'm fine the way I am. Could you show me the way to the other room please?"  
  
He responded casually and her smile never wavered, though her displeasure was abundantly clear.  
  
"Of course. If you would follow me...?"  
  
She wove through the tables, filled with increasingly raucous and drunk players, waving lit cigars around like it made them better somehow. The overworked waitresses in humiliatingly skimpy outfits swaying in ways that were meant to be both enticing and prevent their absurdly large cocktails from spilling on the passerby. The gilded machines only just drowned out the groans and excited screams, the pure oxygen pumped in thrumming through Keith's veins nauseatingly. They passed the dead eyed people, walkers and wheelchairs parked next to slot machines, mechanically feeding in their pensions and pulling the lever, hardly waiting between each losing spin as the brightly lit screens shouted and chimed. A sign above claimed that these were the Loosest Slots in Vegas!  
  
Allura sauntered past it all, leading Keith around a corner to an area designated by a velvet rope. She nodded to the large, hulking man and Keith presented the dealer’s card. The man unhooked the rope and allowed them to pass, down a carpeted hallway around a corner. The deafening noise of the casino was muted and Keith breathed a small sigh of relief. They rounded one last corner and stepped into the room. It only had one table in it and a bar on one side where a woman dressed in a clean cut black and white bar tending suit stood, complete with a small red bow tie, watching the room with calculating eyes behind oversized spectacles. The room itself was done in simple, but elegant dark wood, with plush, cream carpet softening the sounds of their footsteps as they advanced. Stark contrast to the gaudy casino just outside.  The table was in the middle of a sunken area, reminiscent of the 1980s. Chandeliers hung at tasteful intervals, reflecting the low light of the room. Definitely a different ambiance.  
  
Keith noticed instantly how underdressed he was. Six other men sat at the table, not including the dealer who was dressed in the same navy blue outfits as in the main casino. The seat to the dealer's left hand was occupied by a balding, middle aged man with a thick auburn beard, softly humming a tune that Keith almost recognized. The seat next to him was empty. A large Asian man spilled off of the next chair, imposing in his impeccable three piece suit. The others were dressed well, in bespoke trousers and fitted, long sleeved shirts, cuff links glittering boastfully, but the Asian man appeared to have just come from an important meeting. The room was temperature controlled, but Keith marveled at the man's ability to not sweat in a buttoned jacket. In a comical contrast, his neighbor was a very thin man, hunched in on himself and clutching an old fashioned handkerchief, nervously fiddling with it. To his left was the other empty seat. The final two consisted of a young man with snow white hair who sort of reminded Keith of an anime character, and a llama. None of the players seemed particularly surprised when he walked in, nor did most of them do much to greet him. The white haired man smiled, raising his glass of blood red wine to Keith. He nodded in acknowledgement. Two seats were available at the table, so Keith chose the one further from the dealer so he'd have position. It also happened to place him next to the white haired guy who he couldn't really get a read on. The bar tender spoke first, sounding oddly young.  
  
"Would you care for something to drink?"  
  
Turning in his seat, Keith surveyed the bottles closest to him, lined up neatly at the edge of the mahogany bar. All of the usual options were present: Belvedere, Grey Goose, Patron, Macallan 18, Remy Martin, Lafite Rothschild, and Domaine Boingneres. Keith didn't often drink much, especially not when gambling, but having something to sip at could be a handy way to buy time.  
  
"Whiskey and coke please."  
  
The girl?, (Keith guessed, they were so tiny Keith could only make out knobby elbows and that, combined with an ambiguously shoulder length haircut and a face mostly obscured by enormous glasses meant Keith had no idea), got to work mixing it up and Keith turned his attention to the other players. Before he could analyze them at all though, he saw the dealer nod out of the corner of his eye to Allura. She made a motion with her hands, likely signaling something back to him. Keith glanced her way and she smiled again, waving a little as she stalked out of the room, probably to go hunt down more players. The bar tender brought him his drink and Keith accepted with a quiet thanks. He took a sip and sucked on an ice cube, observing the rest of the room.  
  
"We have some pretty nice cigars here too. Cuban. If you'd prefer to suck on one of those instead?"  
  
Keith's head whipped around to the dealer. He'd taken off his coat and draped it casually over a chair behind him. He was nonchalantly rolling up his sleeves to reveal...some nice, tanned forearms actually. Not that Keith was looking.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Arms aside, Keith had come for gambling. Just because sex appeal was used on the masses outside didn't mean it had any place in _there,_ with the professionals. Keith glared at the dealer. When he looked up and noticed the withering look, the dealer held up both hands placatingly.  
  
"Woah hey now! No need to get so riled up! I didn't mean to be offensive. Offering is my _job._ I gotta make sure everyone is having a good time, you know?"  
  
The dealer chuckled and Keith narrowed his eyes suspiciously. There was no way he'd imagined the implied innuendo or that tone of voice.  
  
"Sometimes a cigar really is just a cigar, man."  
  
Keith looked at him skeptically and then glanced at the discarded jacket, trying to discern the name tag. He didn't want to just call him the dealer in his head all night. The brown haired, caramel skinned, lanky, dealer with a playful voice that would sound damn good moaning Keith's name while he teased him to hardness-  
  
Wait.  
  
Keith took a shaky breath, shifting a little in his seat. With the exception of the bar tender, everyone else in the room smelled alpha. Why would the casino hire an alpha to be a dealer for such an exclusive group? They'd clearly spared no expense with the rest of the environment and, although he hadn't sniffed her, Keith was sure that Allura's appeal was no accident. Surely a competitive group of alphas with a large sum of money on the line would prefer a sultry, curvaceous omega? Or perhaps the dealer would prefer a skinnier one, with significantly fewer social skills? He swayed forward in his seat slightly, scenting the air more keenly. He yanked himself back abruptly. It didn't bode well for Keith if he was already fantasizing when he needed to be focusing. Exhaling quietly, Keith settled himself in his seat.  
  
"Anyway, the name's Lance and I'll be your dealer this evening. If you change your mind on the Cuban, let me know."  
  
The dealer, Lance apparently, had the audacity to wink with his statement. Keith flushed a little, wondering if it was a jibe at him as an omega, but the rest of the table laughed and one of them chuckled something about a charming dealer. Keith willed himself to relax and he gave the barest hint of a smile.  
  
"Ya change your mind about playing with the big boys, you can let'm know too."  
  
The smile froze on Lance and it vanished from Keith's face like it had never existed. He'd learned the hard way, early in his career, that poker was still an alpha's game, even in this day and age. He was lucky; omegas were rarely male and he didn't have many of the softer features that would automatically out him as one. But even not knowing he was an omega, he lacked the typical alpha scent they exuded so pungently. Betas weren't exactly unwelcome in the card playing community, but some assholes wished it was more exclusive. It was part of the reason that Keith had refused to play in person before. Keith lifted his chin. He wouldn't be intimidated. If they had a problem with Keith already, why not use his secondary gender to his advantage. He'd never have gotten so far if he didn't fight dirty.  
  
"I'm just waiting for the 'big boys’ to get out here so I can play with them. Maybe they could _dominate me._ "  
  
He explained coolly, raising an impatient eyebrow. He repressed a shudder of disgust, hoping he didn't sound as awkward as he felt. The Asian man who'd spoken glared down his nose imperiously, but Keith distinctly heard a poorly smothered laugh from the bar behind him. Lance looked absolutely delighted. Keith ignored the small burst of happiness from realizing that Lance didn't share their views and instead allowed himself a smug smirk. Clapping his hands, Lance got everyone to look over and tried to cut the tension.  
  
"Ante for each hand is 100 grand, small blind 200, big blind 400. Small blind is currently you sir, " He gestured to the thin, nervous man, "So that leaves the feisty mullet as big blind."  
  
Lance grinned as he finished his pronouncement. Keith stared at him incredulously. Feisty Mullet? He started to raise his hand to his hair, opening his mouth at the same time to hotly protest that it _wasn't_ a mullet; that's just how his hair grows! But then he snapped his jaw shut with an audible click. He would not be distracted, ridiculous nicknames and forearms or no. He carelessly threw his ante and blind into the pot, determined not to break eye contact with Lance. Lance smiled wider and looked away to start thumbing out the pocket cards. It threw Keith for a loop. Alphas were notorious for having aggressive staring contests, some animalistic instinct insisting that breaking the stare signified weakness or some such bullshit. Keith had read a few articles in Buzzfeed about it.  
  
Feeling a little wrong footed, but needing to maintain a calm facade, Keith watched carefully as Lance dealt. When he started noticing just how long Lance's fingers were, and how dexterously  he handed the cards out, Keith forced himself to look away, rubbing a thumb over his own, shorter, fingers. He peeked at his cards. Seven and six, off suit. Not a great hand to start with, but he needed to see the guys around him in action. And his pride wouldn't allow an immediate fold. The white haired man did fold, swirling his drink and watching the legs of his undoubtedly perfect vintage crawl down the sides, although the llama stayed in, along with the others. To no one's surprise, the Asian man raised the bet on his turn.  
  
"700 thousand."  
  
The nervous man called, as did Keith. The llama and the bald man folded. Lance burned a card and spread out the flop. A two, a nine, and a three. Keith's mood soured further. The belligerence of the Asian man meant he couldn't bluff and he had nothing in his favor. He'd need an eight and a five on either fourth street or the river to win and the odds of that happening were slim. If he played to the end and lost he look like a foolish amateur. If he bowed out before then, he'd save his chips. Ultimately, his pride wasn't worth the look on the Asian guy's face from truly beating Keith.  
  
"700 thousand more."  
  
Keith slid his cards to Lance after the slender man called. The Asian man openly chortled, showing off a mouth of misaligned teeth, stained a repugnant yellowish brown.  
  
"Not so tough when the chips are down eh?"  
  
"I bet he just wants the attention. Wishes he was the one we're throwing down. Not a bad way to meet a rich alpha, hmm?"  
  
Keith didn't dignify either of them with an answer. The white haired man quirked his mouth in a moue of distaste and the bald man looked a little uncomfortable while the others laughed. The llama seemed amused, although it was difficult to tell. Keith felt a vicious satisfaction at the fact that, although Lance's smile never dimmed, it did look noticeably strained as he turned over the next card. A ten. The thin man raised another 700 grand. The Asian man called. Keith divided his attention between both of them. The betting of the Asian man might have been his alpha feathers getting ruffled with Keith's appearance. And, based on the now sweating man, mopping his forehead, the nervous man wouldn't have raised unless he had something good. Keith leaned forward in anticipation. The final card was a jack. A flush was impossible, but a king/queen or seven/eight as pocket cards would be a straight. It would be nice to see how pride goeth before a fall so quickly into the game too...  
  
The Asian man raised to one million. The nervous man sucked his teeth noisily before calling and they revealed their cards. Keith inwardly cursed. The Asian man had won with pocket treys, beating out the nervous man's two pair. Keith kept his expression neutral though. Just because the man was still in high spirits and cracking crass jokes at Keith's expense as he jovially swept the pot to his ample chest didn't mean it was over. In fact, it would be all the sweeter when Keith took him down.  
  
Over the course of the next hour, Keith played cautiously, observing his opponents with that thought in mind. He watched avidly while the Asian man postured, the nervous man twittered, and the bald man continued discussing eastern art and dramas with the surprisingly intellectual llama. Lance did succeed in diffusing the tension when it became too antagonistic, deflecting the crudest jokes with well timed card tricks meant to distract. During one fancy bit of shuffling, Keith accidentally made eye contact after focusing a bit too intently on a detailed fantasy involving Lance's fingers. He didn't manage to school the blush from his face fast enough and, if he'd had any doubts, then the way Lance tipped his chin down and smirked crookedly, Keith would have known then that he'd been caught. Heart in his throat, he waited for Lance to say something embarrassing or draw the others' attentions to how sex obsessed omegas truly are. But he said nothing, only continued shuffling. Unsure as to what that meant, and getting kind of frustrated with his luck so far that night, Keith decided to make things more interesting. Lance could shuffle well, so what? Keith had some tricks up his sleeve.  
  
He anted up and was dealt an eight and a four, both hearts. Keith could deal with that. When the bet was upped to 900 large, Keith made his move. He'd been messing with his stacks of chips, (only a little smaller than what he'd started with), and went to slip one of the chips from his glove into his stack, just before throwing them into the pile. It required deft hands and unshakeable self confidence, both of which Keith had in spades. Lance blinked and squinted slightly when Keith called, but said nothing. Technically, it was cheating, but it was hard to say why. After all, he'd paid for the chips, fair and square. All he was really _doing_ was not letting his opponents know how much he had left. Breath coming a little faster at his success, Keith broke the cardinal rule: don't cheat twice in a row.  
  
The second time, as he was about to call a two million raise after a five/ace/three flop and pray for a two, Lance swiftly caught his hand. He leaned in and held up his other hand, whispering dramatically.  
  
"Hey man. You keep fidgeting with your chips like that, you'll look nervous."  
  
As he stage whispered, his elastic face remained smiling, putting on a performance for the other players to watch and be amused by. While he spoke though, his middle finger pushed one of the chips smoothly back inside of Keith's glove, hardly appearing to do more than gently still his hand, polite and respectful. Keith was an uncomfortable mixture of impressed and turned on, fueled by the adrenaline of getting caught in such a high stakes game. Even that brief moment of contact sent warmth unspooling through his veins, radiating up his arm. He'd never known his wrist to be so sensitive. More importantly though, his interest was piqued. Sure, calling the burly bouncer from out front, who was not so discreetly patrolling the room too, to escort Keith off the premises while rudely ripping up his dealer's card and warning him never to return lest they break his kneecaps may not have been a totally realistic scenario for Keith to imagine, but he hadn't thought he'd get off without so much as a stern look.  
  
Keith calmly folded, needing to remove himself from the room stinking of alpha before he did something _really stupid._ Dimly, he heard the bald man raise the bet to two million. He pushed his chair back from the table, hazily excusing himself to the bathroom. He should have stayed, to keep observing or see if anyone lost or won big, but at the moment, he needed a second to himself.  
  
"You doing okay?"  
  
Keith glanced up in surprise. He'd just stumbled past the bouncer, glancing around confusedly.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Just looking for the restroom?"  
  
The bouncer nodded and pointed Keith in the right direction. He felt somewhat foolish when he saw that there was a glaringly large sign for it visible where they were standing. Locking himself in the closest stall, Keith leaned against the door, breathing heavily. Shit. He hadn't anticipated the effects of being surrounded by potent alpha pheromones for hours on end on his oncoming heat. He banged his head loudly against the stall a few times. At that point, he wasn't sure whether jerking off would do more harm than good. Either way, he wasn't going to last much longer. The smart thing to do would be to cash out and head back to his room. All alone. As in, without Lance. His head hit the door again with a bang. He'd taken care of himself many times before, why should this time be any different? Shiro had been right to wait longer before coming and Keith damn well should learn from the experience and _listen_ to him in the future. Right. He didn't even know Lance, much less if he was interested. Although, Lance had certainly been acting interested with the flirty banter they'd been exchanging. No. For once in his life, Keith was going to do the responsible thing.  
  
He checked and made sure his arousal wasn't apparent in any way before fishing out his phone and texting Allura, asking for a heat suite beginning that night. By the time he returned to the table, Keith wasn't feeling any more sure about his decision, but he had decided to stop worrying about it.  
  
He must have missed quite the epic showdown because as he took his still vacant seat, he noticed the llama, all packed up and leaving the table with a pile that was tiny in comparison to what it had been when Keith had left. The llama seemed unfazed by the situation though so Keith shrugged it off. The llama pulled on his hat and gave everyone a silent nod before leaving. The Asian man wasn't pleased to see Keith return, but Lance greeted him warmly. When the others weren't looking, he even slid Keith a sly look involving more eyebrow raising than Keith thought was strictly necessary, but Keith blushed and rolled his eyes anyway. At that point, Keith almost couldn't care less about his chip count and the money lost, but. But, Keith had an indomitable spirit and a competitive streak a mile wide. He'd always privately wondered if it was an omega thing, always wanting to have the most or the best stuff, though the thrill for him was the act of winning, not the rewards accompanying said win. So maybe just a Keith thing.  
  
He eyed the Asian man, the returned sneer filling Keith with determination. Heat and Lance all but forgotten, Keith growled.  
  
"Deal me in."  
  
Two hands came and went before Keith found himself with an ace and a ten in the hole. When the Asian man raised the ante to 700 thousand, in typical fashion, Keith met him head on. The flop was a nine, a queen, and a ten. Good, he already had a pair of tens. It wasn't a great hand, but it gave him a little surge of confidence. Besides himself, the bald man also checked. The Asian man raised the bet again, that time to 1.7 million. Keith gritted his teeth, but wouldn't be cowed. The bald man normally would have been more of a worry to Keith, since he folded most hands and his chip stack had increased more than any other player's had that evening, but normally Keith wasn't busy burning holes into another man's head. When Lance inclined his head to indicate Keith's turn, Keith made a rapid decision. He counted out 3.5 million in chips and gently tossed them into the pot. To his credit, Lance's poker face was just as good as any of his players.  
  
The bald man folded, shaking his head and laughing softly. The Asian man hastily shoved forward all of his remaining chips, grinning wildly at Keith.  
  
"All in, _boy._ "  
  
Keith kept his face impassive, despite the fiery rage swirling in his blood.  
  
"Count it. I'll call."  
  
Lance quickly flipped through the chips, coming back with a total of 4.875 million. Keith coolly matched it and sat forward, not bothering to contain the way he was vibrating in his seat any longer. They revealed their cards. The man had pocket queens. Shitshitshit. He had three of a kind, easily beating Keith's pair. The next card was a king which helped neither of them. The Asian man started spouting off some cocky bull. Keith followed the movements of Lance's hands, determined to get something that would allow him to win.  
  
Like a jack.  
  
Pumping a triumphant fist into the air, Keith swept the pot towards himself while the Asian spluttered indignantly. An ace high straight! Keith couldn't stop smiling. The pot had ended up to be 10.55 million. Considering he'd been down to about five million, that was a total profit of a little under five million for the entire night. Plus, he'd gotten to stick it to a nasty knot head and, hopefully, impress the hot dealer. Keith preened a little, stretching in a purposefully casual way. Not bad for a night out. Turning towards the aforementioned hot dealer, Keith felt a wave of warmth unspool in his belly. Riding high off the adrenaline of victory, Keith fluttered his eyelashes a little and mustered up his best sexy voice to ask:  
  
"You mind helping me carry _all_ of these chips over to cash out? There's just so many of them."  
  
No one ever said Keith wasn't a petty bitch.  
  
Lance seemed surprised that Keith was asking, but nodded after a moment.  
  
"Yeah sure, let me just-" he fumbled a walkie talkie out from some compartment on the side of the table. "Hey Nyma? Could you come cover the VIP room for a while?"  
  
There was some static before a female voice answered in the affirmative. Lance helped Keith gather all the chips together just as Allura brought a couple more men in.  
  
"Hi, Allura. Nyma is gonna come switch with me in a second."  
  
Allura gave Lance an oddly stern look, but nodded and resumed speaking to the men who had just arrived. Soon, a woman with long blonde braids hanging on either side of her face strolled in. Her outfit was similar to Lance's and her name tag read Nyma. Lance hastily gathered up his jacket and the majority of Keith's chips, leading them out to the counter. Once Lance had deposited his armful of chips, Keith took his hand under the pretense of a handshake. He slipped the extra keycard to the heat suite Allura had been able to book him last minute.  
  
"Thanks for helping me carry those out. I'm Keith, by the way. You seem pretty handy."  
  
What? _Pretty handy?_ Keith internally grimaced, at both the line and the fact that he was leaning farther forward into Lance's personal space than was often socially acceptable, trying to catch another whiff of his alpha scent. Wanting to leave before he humiliated himself further, Keith stepped back, grabbing the check from the woman at the counter without even glancing at it, and putting his hands into his pockets.  
  
"Y-yup! That's me! Handiest Lance you ever did see!"  
  
Keith snorted. Lance looked like he immediately wanted to slap his handy hands over his stupid face. A wave of relief crested over Keith that Lance wasn't just some suave, unobtainable guy. He smiled, less flirting and more genuine, before heading towards the elevators. Lance's hands were clammy and he was sweating a little. The guy he'd been ogling all night, Keith, had finally flirted back with him! And slipped him something that felt suspiciously like a room key! Best of all, he hadn't asked for it back when Lance was too flustered to say anything remotely cool in response. Lance wanted to confirm his awesome luck, but being seen with a player right after dealing for his table was...probably frowned on. And definitely not what Allura had had in mind when she'd signaled to Lance that he should take special care of Keith. Worried about the casino cameras stationed everywhere, Lance slipped into a bathroom stall. He'd waved excitedly at Hunk when he strolled past and promised to give him all the details later. Hunk rolled his eyes good-naturedly.  
  
Once assured that no incriminating footage would be available later, Lance verified that it was, in fact, a room key. But not just any room key. His eyes widened. It was a room key for the top echelon on floors, where the richest people stayed. That wasn't surprising, given the table Keith had been playing at. What was surprising, was the additional metal chip embedded in the card for extra security purposes. The only key cards with those were for the twelfth floor which had extra security for the heat suites, to make sure no creepy, unwanted alphas could go there and harass or take advantage of the omegas. Lance frowned in thought. Keith obviously hadn't smelled like an alpha, but he certainly hadn't smelled like an omega in heat. And he'd been clear headed enough to play and win against some of the VIP room's regulars. Bringing the card up to his face, Lance sniffed at it delicately. His mouth watered. Yeah, okay, not quite in heat, but approaching the precipice swiftly. His heart pounded; it obviously had been in Keith's back pocket for a while. Even with some sort of blocker, the thick scent was apparent. Lance rocked back on his heels, a wave of hot arousal surging through his body. He gnawed his lip, debating on how to get out of the rest of his shift.  
  
He texted Allura, briefly going over the situation and glossing over the burgeoning erection he was sporting. In return for the night off, he’d make sure to entice Keith back to the VIP room and he’d cover one of the less desirable shifts in the future, no questions asked. Normal hook up etiquette dictated that an alpha stranger might stay for the first night of a heat, or the one right before a heat, but not for the rest of it. Those days, when an omega was at his or her most vulnerable, were more intimate and thus reserved for mates or long time lovers. His phone chimed with Allura’s reply. Crossing his fingers, he was relieved to see that Allura had given the okay. Nothing too ominous, just that she would ‘certainly be taking him up on his generous offer’. Lance chose to ignore that and made his way to the elevators. Inserting the key card, he pressed the 12 button and it lit up blue. His heart rate sped up with the floors. As he stepped off, a security guard confronted him. He flashed the key card and a brilliant grin. The guard scanned the chip and nodded, stepping aside to allow Lance through. With an awkward wave, Lance headed towards the suite on the card. The guard followed him at a discreet distance. Lance imagined that the security, along with the reinforced walls and doors must be reassuring for the omegas paying the exorbitant amounts for the suites and wanting some privacy for their nesting.  
  
Lance inserted the card and the door flashed green, admitting him. Once inside, Lance took a deep breath, exhaling with a low whistle of appreciation. The entire tower was of sleek Japanese decor, making use of dark wood and sparse decorations on the walls. It seemed an odd choice for a heat suite, since omegas tended to nest in rooms with lots of homey tchotchkes and soft fabrics. His nose immediately pinpointed Keith’s location within the suite and although his body yearned to join him, Lance wanted to check out the rest of the extravagant suite first, since he’d likely never see anything so fancy again. He saw the private kitchen and the stocked fridge, of huge importance since an omega would have little energy to get food and couldn’t exactly leave. Peeking into the living room, he glanced longingly at the giant tv that they wouldn’t use. The marble bathroom caught his attention and he made note of the oversized spa tub, resolving to fuck Keith in there, at least once. Maybe on the nice dining table too, while they were at it. Unable to keep his mind off of the high whimpers emanating from the bedroom any longer, Lance quietly padded in. His breath punched out of his chest in a silent gasp at the sight.  
  
Keith straddled a high-backed armchair, his pale thighs spread lewdly over the chair, arms wrapped around the back and head hanging down, shoulders heaving as he fucked himself down on the hotel’s complimentary dildo. Lance leaned out of the doorway to toe off his shoes and peel off his socks. He left them in a neat pile, along with his jacket and turned off walkie-talkie. Satisfied that he could step softly on the carpet, Lance snuck up behind Keith, restraining his groan at the slick noises and the sight of Keith’s wet hole swallowing up the frankly small dildo. As he came closer, Lance could see Keith’s fingers scrabbling against the velvety chair and his parted lips sucking in air. Lance reached out, running his forefinger around Keith’s slightly stretched rim. Keith startled, his head whipping around, eyes wide.  
  
“La-ah!”  
  
Taking advantage of his surprise, Lance slipped his finger inside, along with the dildo. Keith’s hips jerked up, the dildo sliding out with a pop. Lance allowed another finger to take its place, corkscrewing to pet at Keith’s slippery walls. His nostrils flared at the heady scent of slick, thick throughout the room. Keith shivered, clenching around Lance’s fingers as a small, internal orgasm rattled his body.  
  
“I’m right here. ‘M gonna take care of you, don’t worry. Got your alpha right here, at your service.”  
  
Keith quirked his mouth in a little smile and Lance leaned forward, circling to the other side of the chair and unbuttoning his shirt a bit. Keith nuzzled his face against Lance’s chest, rubbing his face in the unadulterated scent of aroused alpha. Lance brought his hands up, using the clean one to stroke Keith’s already sweaty hair and brought the other to his face, tasting Keith’s slick on his fingers. He moaned a little.  
  
“Is that good? I wore some cologne today, but I can take a shower. You want me to stay like this longer?”  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
Lance tilted Keith’s head up, brushing their lips together. Keith surged forward impatiently to capture Lance’s mouth, needing to taste him. Keith reached up to move some of his hair that had gotten in his mouth, craning his neck up to lick along the side of Lance’s tongue. He panted into Lance’s mouth.  
  
“Put your clothes on the bed. Want them in my nest.”  
  
Keith dropped his head back to Lance’s chest and gave Lance a coy look up through his lashes, licking lightly at Lance’s nipple. His skin pebbled with goosebumps and his mouth went dry. He realized he was gaping like a fool and flushed, mumbling something as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, stepping away to add it, his slacks, and briefs to the bed, fumbling his phone out and leaving it on the side table. He arranged the clothes in the mess of blankets and pillows, careful not to alter the structure or disturb it much. He was surprised that Keith wanted his scent in his nest since it would linger after Lance left, but maybe that was the whole point? Alpha scents were supposed to be comforting to omegas in heat, but Lance had thought that might be an old wives tale. When he turned around, Keith’s hips were dropping back down on Lance’s silicone rival. Lance narrowed his eyes, accepting the dildo’s challenge.  
  
Prowling forward again, he lowered himself to his knees, pleased to see he was scooted out to the correct height to sit with his back to the chair and tilt his head onto the chair cushion. He chucked the dildo out of his way and replaced it with his face. Parting Keith’s thighs and smoothing over the downy hair, Lance kissed his way up to Keith’s throbbing hole, clenching down around nothing. He ran his tongue around the hole, reveling in the musky, salty taste. He huffed out a satisfied breath and Keith’s hips jerked upwards. Lapping over the hole, Lance held Keith open, coaxing him down onto his mouth. Keith slowly relaxed his legs, settling more weight down, wary of hurting Lance, but unable to fully pull away from the pleasure. He clawed at the chair, gasping and struggling to hold himself up. He whimpered as his legs spread farther, stretching his groin painfully. Lance ate him out eagerly, tilting his head back for more. Submitting finally, Keith ground down and Lance thrust his tongue inside, plunging it in, torturously shallow compared to the dildo. The harder he licked, the more the rasping of his tongue began to hurt a little, the sensitive skin alight with a bite of pain. Keith shuddered, leaning into the chair and changing the angle slightly. His small cock bobbed in front of him as he rode Lance’s face, finally getting some friction from the velvety chair. The pain faded, melding with the pleasure as Lance sucked lightly around the rim, working more spit in. Lance tightened his grip on Keith’s thighs, his broad hands squeezing the deliciously soft flesh. Keith howled, bearing down on Lance’s clever tongue as another orgasm vibrated throughout. He spilled onto the chair, hips gradually trying to still their frenetic rocking as he became over stimulated.  
  
The gush of slick directly into Lance’s mouth made his own dick twitch painfully, slapping against his stomach. It tasted _so fucking good._ His alpha instincts went haywire. The slick signaled that his omega was excited, treated well and pleasured. A happy omega was the ultimate alpha goal. Lance grasped Keith harder, holding him against his parted lips forcefully. Keith groaned and tried to pull himself away. Lance tongued around the reddened hole, slipping in and out of the entrance. It wasn’t enough. The slick started to taste more like during a heat. Lance’s blood sang. The heady feeling that he could trigger Keith’s heat early, just by overwhelming him with positive feelings and orgasms, made his primal urges ravenous. He needed to make Keith come again; held his hips down despite the increasingly persistent thrashing above him.  
  
“Lance, please, let go!”  
  
Another pulse of slick dripped out and Keith wailed, letting go of his death-grip on the chair to start prying at Lance’s hands. Panic began to well up as he saw how tightly Lance was holding him down in such a vulnerable position.  
  
“Lance! Lance, don’t-! Please! Stop!”  
  
The rising hysteria in Keith’s voice finally registered in Lance’s mind and he instantly released him, sliding out from his position and gently easing Keith down on the chair. Keith’s shoulders hunched up around his ears and he dropped his face onto the cushion, breathing heavily. _Shit._ Lance hastily wiped the slick from his face with his arm, scuttling around to the other side and crouching to make eye contact.  
  
“I’m sorry. Keith, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I shouldn’t have grabbed so hard, should have been gentler with you.”  
  
Lance carefully apologized, maintaining an even voice and keeping calm, trying to broadcast reassuring pheromones. He didn’t want to reach out yet, unsure of how it might be received. Keith’s shoulders lowered slightly and his face tilted up, although he still avoided Lance’s eyes.  
  
“You didn’t hurt me. It’s fine.”  
  
“It’s not fine. I want to make you feel good. I stopped when you asked me to, but I want to know what upset you.”  
  
“I’m not upset. I said I’m fine.”  
  
“Please, Keith. I really want to be good for you. Let me do that, yeah babe? Will you help me?”  
  
Lance took a chance, reaching out and tucking a strand of Keith’s hair behind his ear. Keith relaxed and finally mumbled.  
  
“Being restrained…or pinned down isn’t…good. I mean, uh, being underneath is fine, and you stopped when I told you to, so really it’s not a big deal.”  
  
Lance nodded encouragingly.  
  
“Okay. Make sure you’ve got room to breathe. Gotcha. I can work with that. But, how about we move to the bed, hmm? More comfortable in your lovely nest there. We’ll have a roll around the blankets.”  
  
He winked. Keith smiled and lifted himself onto unsteady legs. Lance walked around to offer him an arm for support and Keith grudgingly accepted it. The walk to the bed wasn’t far and Lance waited until Keith had situated himself and patted the bed, inviting Lance in. He’d been raised to respect an omega’s space. Keith rolled onto his stomach, parting his thighs again to present his hole, burying his face in Lance’s briefs in his nest and inhaling deeply. He felt a little rush of heat at the scent mixed in with his own. Lance choked on a groan. Keith looked over his shoulder, wiggling his ass enticingly. Lance climbed in, slipping a few fingers inside to check how stretched out Keith was. Clucking his tongue uncertainly, he glanced around, his gaze landing suddenly on a long, cylindrical pillow.  
  
“Here, why don’t you get on top of this? You’re not loose enough yet.”  
  
Keith raised an eyebrow, but accepted the pillow. He straddled it, clutching it tightly with his knees and digging his fingers in.  
  
“Feel pretty loose.”  
  
“Well, I’m pretty big.”  
  
Furrowing his eyebrows to glare, Keith’s gaze dropped to where Lance gestured at his crotch. His erection had flagged slightly while they talked, but it was still sizable, even by alpha standards. Keith blinked. Lance hadn’t been exaggerating. Unable to contain his smirk, Lance draped himself over Keith’s back, making sure to simply lay on him and not hold him. He knew an omega’s state of mind was vitally important on the edge of heat. High levels of anxiety or stress could easily tip them into a panic or worse, a dry heat. He decided to try a little humor first. He let part of a sheet fall over him like a Roman toga, reclining on the pillows luxuriously, and waggled his eyebrows ridiculously at Keith.  
  
“When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie…I’m Emperor Longdickakus.”  
  
Keith giggled adorably and Lance felt his heart melt a little. His scent had dipped back into happy omega territory, so Lance felt comfortable pushing a little closer. He rubbed Keith’s arm and nuzzled his hair, mouthing at the nape of his neck soothingly.  
  
“Not only am I hilarious, but there’s plenty of food in the fridge, lots of water bottles. A big tub I can clean you up in. I made sure the door closed all the way behind me and locked the deadbolt too. There’s guards on either side of this floor, by both elevators. You have to use a key card to even _get_ to this floor, and they verify it once you’re here. They’re imposing too. Can’t get past them. I didn’t smell a single other alpha on my way to your door. No one is getting in here. No one besides me is going to so much as smell you, hear your pretty voice when you whine on my knot.”  
  
Lance’s own voice dropped to a low growl, his innate protectiveness on full display. Normally, Keith would have mocked him for such cliche words, but now the underlying threat to any interloper and the safety it promised seemed overwhelming satisfying. He rutted down into the pillow, swiveling his hips indulgently.  
  
“Want you here.”  
  
“I’m right here, babe.”  
  
“No. I want you here the whole time.”  
  
Keith didn’t care how petulant it came out; some part of him knew that Lance had a job, but he wanted Lance to stay with him for the entirety of his heat. He’d had others before on the first night. No one had ever stayed though. Not that he’d ever asked them to. Something about Lance had him breaking all his carefully constructed rules. Lance had some trouble controlling his own shock and excitement. He’d never stayed for an omega’s heat. Coughing lightly to make sure his voice didn’t crack, Lance responded.  
  
“A-Are you sure? That’s ah, I mean. Not that you shouldn’t trust me! I’m a totally trustworthy guy!”  
  
“I have a good feeling about you. And I trust my gut.”  
  
Lance was oddly touched. Unwilling to roll off of Keith, Lance reached out to the side table, blindly feeling around for his phone. He retrieved it without knocking anything over, (very smooth), and flicked the lock screen off, rapidly typing in his passcode. He thumbed over to text Allura, tilting the screen so that both of them could read it. No way Lance would turn down the opportunity to stick around for an adorably hot ass who was staying in the nicest suite he’d ever seen. He wasn’t _insane._ He typed out something about using some of his accumulated sick days and taking off the next four days.  
  
“Is four enough? Should I do five?”  
  
Keith snuggled his ass up to Lance’s dick, thoroughly distracting him for a hot second.  
  
“Four is fine.”  
  
Lance tried to bring his brain back online and pressed send. Dropping the phone, he reached down and stroked himself to hardness, biting back a moan. He nudged the head against Keith’s backside, sliding it between his cheeks in the slippery crack. When the head caught at the edge of Keith’s rim, Lance allowed the tip to push inside, testing the stretch. He kept his fingers around himself, unwilling to slide in any further yet. Even the head stretched Keith deliciously wide and he rocked back impatiently, trying to fit more inside. Lance’s obnoxious ringtone startled both of them. Lance groaned in a distinctly unsexy way. Allura was calling him? That wasn’t good. He reached out to slap the phone away, but Keith had already snatched it up, hackles raised and holding down the power button until it shut off entirely. Then he tossed it uncaringly onto the side table. Lance winced.  
  
“If it’s broken I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care! Just keep doing that!”  
  
Keith knew he sounded like a spoiled brat as soon as the words left his mouth and the hand that cracked sharply on the curve of his ass right afterwards reinforced the feeling.  
  
“Just because I’m not holding you down doesn’t mean you can just throw my stuff around, Rich Boy. I’m not the help. So don’t treat me or my things like they’re replaceable.”  
  
Fuck. Lance sounded really mad. Keith whimpered and tilted his head to the side, baring his neck in an easily recognizably submissive pose. He hadn’t meant it like that. But his body was right on the verge of heat and he saw someone else’s name on the screen, the name of a beautiful, sexy woman, and he’d been overcome with red hot jealousy. Meanwhile, Lance’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t intend to smack Keith so hard, hardly even that angry. His phone was a beast; it had taken several drops and beatings over the years. Plus, he was painfully aware that, to Keith, an almost total stranger, both Lance and his phone were completely replaceable. He hoped he hadn’t gone too far. So, when he saw Keith expose his neck in a peace offering he pressed a few kisses under his chin, eagerly accepting. He also pushed a little more of his dick inside, managing to fit the entire head in.  
  
Keith chirruped, shivering. He started pushing the pillow out from under them, unable to take the clean, hotel scent of it. Lance’s cock twitched and he thrust faster, his hand moving up and down his shaft more easily as slick dribbled down it. He nipped at Keith’s scent glands behind his ears, trying to check if Keith had fully succumbed to his heat yet, but the scent was so thick in the air that he couldn’t tell. They’d been swollen for most of the time he’d been there. Still unsure, he pulled out and swiped at the slick, rubbing his fingers together to check the consistency. Smacking his lips together happily, he tenderly wrapped his arms around Keith’s slim waist and turned him around so they were face to face. He scooted until he sat up right in the nest and encouraged Keith to straddle him.  
  
“Why don’t you ride me like that dildo you used earlier?”  
  
Keith leered.  
  
“Jealous, alpha?”  
  
“A little.”  
  
Lance admitted, taken up with watching how Keith’s thighs flexed as his legs splayed out. Keith panted as his sore muscles protested the movement. He reached behind himself, bracing against Lance’s shoulder with his other hand, and grasping Lance’s cock. Lance sucked in a breath, torn between watching Keith’s face and trying to watch over Keith’s shoulder. He settled for the way Keith’s mouth dropped open in a perfect o as he managed to rock down onto the head of Lance’s dick. Lance smoothed the pinch between Keith’s brows as he sank down a little further, Lance’s other hand fluttering uncertainly by Keith’s waist. He desperately wanted to yank him down and fuck up into him like a doll, but no way would he make that mistake again. Not when the heat pheromones weighed down the air, stinking of trust and sex. Keith squirmed, breathing heavily and sank a little farther down. Lance feathered his hands up and down Keith’s sides, not daring to move otherwise. He murmured soft words of encouragement, wanting Keith to go at his own pace. Keith felt like he was split open, one hand’s nails biting into Lance’s shoulder and the other balanced precariously on Lance’s thigh. In a moment of near hysteria, he registered that Lance must shave his legs because it was so smooth and soft. He wondered if Lance might shave his legs later, in the bathtub. For some reason, the idea of Lance cautiously teasing a sharp razor up the most sensitive area on his body, so carefully and slowly, let loose a pulse of slick, his dick dribbling precum onto Lance’s stomach.  
  
Lance felt the drizzle of slick drip down to his sac and he sat forward, pressing open mouthed kisses to the pale column of Keith’s throat. He smoothed his hand up Keith’s spine, trying to help him brace better. Despite Lance’s good intentions, Keith hadn’t anticipated the movement and one knee was bumped out, causing him to slump forward and lose his grip on Lance’s leg as it tensed. As a result, he couldn’t hold himself up anymore and he sat down hard, impaling himself entirely. He _screamed._ His other hand raked at Lance’s caramel skin, drawing blood in its viciousness. Keith convulsed, dick spurting all over Lance, the aftershocks rolling through his body in little shivers. Lance moaned at the obscene display. He clutched Keith to his chest, trying to soothe and shush him through it. He felt Keith’s cum dripping down his abs and he nipped excitedly at Keith’s swollen scent glands, red from all the attention. He prayed that Keith wasn’t in pain and wouldn’t be after his heat. Once Keith seemed to have recovered and calmed down a little, Lance tried experimentally rocking his hips, ever so slightly.  
  
“Ah! More! Please, have to! Fuck! More!”  
  
Lance could work with that. Tugging Keith closer, he reached down to his hips, bouncing him on his cock. Keith buried his face in Lance’s shoulder, moaning and drooling a little as his hips bucked, long past trying to establish any rhythm. Luckily, since his heat had begun in earnest, the oversensitivity right after cumming no longer bothered him, his body urging Lance on. He ground down on Lance’s dick wantonly, blood thrumming in his veins.  
  
“I need-! Fuck! Keith you feel so good, so perfect, gonna take care of you, make you feel so good, smell amazing, so wet for me-“  
  
Lance babbled in his ear, praises and pleas falling equally from his lips. Keith sucked a darkening hickey over Lance’s pulse in the spirit of reciprocity.  
  
“I’m gonna! Keith, I’m-!”  
  
Hazily, Keith realized that Lance was trying to warn him, tell him something important. He whined needily into Lance’s neck as he felt hands spread his ass even wider. Lance’s thrusts became wilder, frantically pounding into Keith. Keith didn’t bother moving or trying to meet Lance’s movements, only relaxed his whole body into the cradle of Lance’s arms, letting himself be jostled and fucked like a toy. He submitted entirely. A primal, guttural cry left Lance’s lips and he held Keith still, pinning their hips together so he was as deep as possible inside Keith’s ass. Keith tried to catch his breath, thinking Lance was taking a break or settling.  
  
Just as the thoughts flittered through his mind, he yanked his head up as his ass started throbbing. Except, it wasn’t _him_ that throbbed. Ah, God, yes, Lance was knotting him. He chuckled darkly. It had taken awhile for other alphas to work up to a knot in his experience, so he was flattered to know he’d gotten Lance all hot and bothered so quickly. His pride vanished soon though, as the knot didn’t stop swelling. Lance really hadn’t been kidding; he was huge. Shit. Keith shifted a little, the stretch uncomfortably wide and still going. He bit his lip at the pain. Lance wasn’t going to fit. Keith felt like he’d explode, like something would burst inside of him. He kept shifting, trying to ease some of it out of him. His eyes burned at the sting and his omega instincts begged him to hold still, to let his alpha knot him like he wanted so badly. The rational side of him insisted he keep moving, couldn’t let his lizard brain be responsible for tearing his asshole.  
  
Lance cooed at Keith, sympathy welling up at the discomfort obvious in his movements. He pet Keith’s hair and fluttered kisses along his neck and collarbone, trying to distract him. Struck with inspiration, he pried one of Keith’s hands from around his neck and brought it down to where they were joined, entwining their fingers and delicately tracing around Keith’s hole.  
  
“Spread out so wide for me. Incredible. Know it hurts, promise I’ll hold still until it feels better.”  
  
Keith’s breath hitched on a sob. Lance ducked his head down, peppering more kisses along Keith’s shoulder. He brought up the other hand to rub around Keith’s hardened nipples, sensually letting his fingers drift over the nubs. Keith gasped, trying to breathe around the pain, which was already dwindling a little. He couldn’t stop his hips though. They stuttered and jerked, sending winces of pain up his spine and down his legs. Lance eased him back a little from his death grip around Lance’s neck, gently pushing until Keith sat upright. He was still bent forward at the waist, unwilling to relinquish his hold around Lance. Lance saw one of Keith’s legs folded oddly out of the corner of his eye and he coaxed the leg into a more comfortable looking position, sliding it up the bed and closer to him. Keith followed the movement, obediently bringing up his leg and tilting his pelvis under so he wasn’t arching his back as much. Lance followed suit with the other leg, tugging them towards him. Keith stopped breathing. Then he threw his head back and shrieked, clamping down on Lance’s knot. Lance startled, eyes wide.  
  
“Fu-uh-uh-uh!”  
  
Keith came again, splashing white across Lance’s tanned skin. He circled his hips in a frenzy, entire chest flushed in arousal, and tiny tears still hanging from his eyelashes. The knot kept him from actually bouncing, but some part of Lance was brushing against something inside of him that sent sparks racing up and down his limbs. He had no idea what kinds of high-pitched sounds he was making, only that he couldn’t stop even if he tried. Lance watched the filthy show in absolute awe. Keith ground down against his knot and Lance groaned, licking his lips. Keith’s eyes rolled back in his head in pleasure. Lance panted in his ear.  
  
“So good. For me. Such a good, strong omega. Satisfying yourself like that. Keep rocking, just like that, baby. Doing so well. Taking my knot like that. Making you feel so good.”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, feels ah! Feels good. Lance! La-ah-ance!”  
  
Keith’s hole shuddered and he came again, dick twitching weakly. He could feel how much slick was smeared around his entrance, leaking out from where the knot plugged him up, and he slumped on to Lance, utterly boneless. He nosed into Lance’s neck, licking weakly under his jaw as Lance growled. He felt Lance exploring the backs of his thighs and ass so he reached down as well. Together, their hands dipped lower and he felt Lance’s sac ripple. Lance growled again, his grip suddenly punishing on Keith’s lower back. Keith moaned in submission, the feeling of the knot pulsing strange, but not painful. He purred at the idea that Lance was filling him up, that he’d be so full and they’d be stuck together until the knot went down. Except…  
  
It really was a weird feeling. He was keenly aware of the sperm, the knot swelling and contracting, as it traveled up the inside of Lance’s cock only to emerge inside of him. It came out in tiny little pulses, crowding his insides. His body clenched, trying to draw Lance deeper inside, or to milk the sperm from his knot. In tightening his channel, the knot pressed hard against his prostate, getting him off again and making him cry out. He tried to bear down and not clamp, hoping a wider channel would help. But the sperm kept coming and he could feel them shoving through his tiny cervix. One bead crawled up and it was so _creepy._ It really felt like something was crawling in such an intimate place and Keith couldn’t help but try to force it out. He began to thrash, desperate to get away. More beads forced their way in and slowly made their way up, the number quickly hurting in such a small space. Keith whimpered, trying to dislodge the whole thing. Lance’s arms held him fast and Keith growled at him in dismay.  
  
“I’m sorry. Keith, I’m so sorry. It’ll hurt you so much if we rip apart, I don’t want to hurt you. Breathe okay? Just take a few breaths, for me, please.”  
  
Lance gritted his teeth, bewildered. Had he done something wrong? Omegas were supposed to love the feeling of the sperm attaching. It ought to have been the best part. The bodice rippers Lance enjoyed may not have been the most accurate, but he’d been with omegas before and they’d been thrown into fits of ecstasy at the beads rubbing against their inner walls, like somehow Lance’s sperm was ravishing them from the inside out. He wiggled a hand between their bodies and massaged Keith’s lower abdomen, hoping to speed up the process. After an excruciating 30 seconds, Keith felt a single bead ‘pop’ out and a warmth spread over him, a combination of numbness through his entire body and the best orgasm he’d ever had. Waves of pleasure overwhelmed him and he convulsed, choking on noises of ecstasy. Lance sighed in relief, finally allowing himself to revel in his own pleasure as he came and came and came. Dimly, he realized that Keith had been fighting his body, trying to push the packets out of himself and they were building up and getting stuck. Worried about it happening again, Lance surged forward, lifting Keith and laying him back on the bed, wedging a pillow under their joined hips. His distended knot finally pulsed out the last pearl and he carefully withdrew, keeping Keith’s hips tilted up to not waste any. He rubbed around the entrance, happily noting no blood or injury.  
  
Keith jerked again like he’d been electrocuted and his voice cracked on a moan. Lance slipped his fingers inside, continuously stroking Keith’s walls to promote contractions and scooping some of the excess out of him where it wasn’t dribbling down his thighs. The tantalizing sight made Lance long to taste Keith again and he saw no reason to resist. He laved his tongue where the thigh joined his hip, admiring the way Keith’s entrance glistened. He wiped his mouth again, stretching out over Keith to kiss him, deeply and leisurely. It was positively cute the way Keith tried to respond to the kisses, mostly just opening his mouth wider for Lance and huffing tiny noises as he tasted himself on Lance’s lips. Lance feathered kisses down his neck and over his chest, suckling briefly at each red nipple, just to make Keith arch his back and hum. When his body finally relaxed, Lance kissed his nose, which wrinkled under the attention.  
  
“Wait for me. I’m going to get us some water. Don’t want you losing your cute voice~.”  
  
Keith frowned and muttered about how his voice wasn’t cute. He couldn’t help but watch the play of muscles on Lance’s back as he stretched and popped it before sauntering off to the kitchen, soft cock swaying between his legs, brown skin shiny with their combined fluids. Once Lance had left the room, Keith collapsed momentarily into his nest, basking in their scents. He heard Lance padding around outside, the sound of a toilet flushing loud in the suite. His stomach rolled and cramped, hole clenching around nothing. He rolled onto his stomach, humping the mattress slowly. He’d hoped that Lance would take the edge off enough to actually relax for more than two minutes, but his heat was relentless when his nest was bathed in the smell of aroused alpha. His chest rumbled in dissatisfaction. He eyed the dildo on the floor, unsure how it ended up there. It wouldn’t be big enough to please him, but it was better than nothing. If he could just…reach it…  
  
Lance ambled back into the room, feeling refreshed and ready to get back to business. He’d brought a few water bottles and had already swigged down nearly half of his own. Expecting to see Keith curled up, sleepily blinking up at Lance, he was unprepared for Keith, one foot planted on the floor and the other knee on the mattress, humping the cylindrical pillow and pumping the dildo in and out of his puckered hole. Lance’s fist tightened around the water, the sound of crinkling plastic loud compared to Keith’s soft groans. Irrational jealousy flooded his system and he stomped over, throwing the bottle down on the bed in front of Keith and hauling the offending silicone out of his ass and chucking it across the room.  
  
“You need to rehydrate. Drink the water or next time, I’ll knot outside of you and _make you watch._ ”  
  
His voice dropped dangerously. Keith shakily pushed up onto his forearms, arching his back and erotically swaying his hips, presenting his entrance, still dripping with Lance’s sperm. He wanted to please his alpha, appease any jealousy, no matter how silly. Picking up the water, Keith unscrewed the top and sipped. Unable to draw his eyes away from the sight, Lance’s prick hardened slowly in his lap. Discarding his own bottle, Lance leaned onto his hands and rutted against Keith’s ass, moaning when the tip of his chub caught on the slippery rim. Keith tried to ignore it and drink more of the water. Lance slid in half way, thrusting languidly.  
  
“So wet and loose for me.”  
  
Lance sighed contentedly. As he slipped further inside, Keith keened in relief and gulped at his water, his own erection seeking friction against the pillow. Lance reveled in the warmth weakly clutching at his length and almost didn’t notice how he rocked harder, his thighs slapping against Keith’s ass more insistently. In his haste, Keith choked and spilled more of the water on his chest and into his nest, the excess dribbling down his chin as he tried to swallow. Lance let out a low noise of dissent.  
  
“Slow down, baby. Slow down.”  
  
Keith obeyed, coughing and swiping uselessly at the water. Lance ground down, nuzzling and mouthing along the knobs of Keith’s spine.  
  
“Wanna take care of you.”  
  
Sliding his fingers down Keith’s back, Lance ran a fingertip around the sloppy entrance, entranced with watching himself slide in and out. On the next thrust, he pumped his finger in, along with his prick.  
  
“Be here the whole time. Make sure you’re fed, hydrated, bathe you, fuck you until you’re purring and my name’s the only thing you can remember.”  
  
Keith humored his ramblings, rocking his hips between Lance and the pillow.  
  
“Never leave you alone, Sweetheart.”  
  
At the term of endearment, Keith quivered. Lance smirked. He crooked his finger until he found a soft, spongy place within and stroked it gently. Keith’s body clenched and his insides contracted like he had the hiccups. He ground down. Lance peered around, trying to see if Keith was still having issues from the water. Instead, he whined needily and Lance realized that Keith’s body had learned to milk an alpha’s knot. He removed his finger with a sly leer, slapping Keith’s perky ass playfully. With the smack, Keith yipped and dropped the water bottle entirely. It tumbled off of the bed, water pooling on the stylish rug beneath.  
  
“Mm, your body is a fast learner. Rippling around me like that, clamping down so perfectly to suck up my spunk. Proud of you, Sweetheart.”  
  
Lance whispered seductively in Keith’s ear.  
  
“Sweetheart huh? I like it too. Spilled all your water though, even after I told you to drink it.”  
  
The implications of his statement hit Keith suddenly. Yanking away from the warmth of Lance’s lithe body, he scrambled to the ground, righting the water bottle and latching on to it, gulping down the dregs left in it. He’d disobeyed his alpha, wasted the water he’d brought him so thoughtfully. He didn’t deserve his knot again. Deserved to see him cum outside of Keith and waste all that cum how Keith wasted the water in his haste. He squished the soaked rug with his hand in dismay and turned to face Lance with a low sob lodged in his throat. Surprised at Keith’s reaction, Lance took a moment to collect himself. He hadn’t realized how far into subspace Keith had fallen. Then he smiled warmly, wrapping his arms around Keith and sweeping him back up into the nest. He nuzzled Keith’s sweaty neck, mouthing adoringly at the scent glands.  
  
“Hush, Keith. You’ve been plenty good for me. I know you didn’t mean to spill the water; it was my fault for teasing you. There’s plenty more water and I’ll bring you some in a while. Maybe when we get in the tub. You’ll drink it then, right Sweetheart?”  
  
Keith nodded immediately. Maintaining the sweet smile, Lance maneuvered them so that Keith was resting facedown in his nest, hips raised on a pillow and his legs slightly spread. He’d have laid down however Lance wanted him, but he couldn’t deny how glad he was that his legs weren’t as wide as before. His sore muscles were a distant thought, but he appreciated laying down. Lance carefully positioned himself at Keith’s entrance, enraptured with how his hole seemed to suck Lance in. He watched his prick disappear over and over again into the beautiful plush ass, hoping his knot would be easier the second time. Within moments, Keith writhed in pleasure once more.  
  
A few hazy days later, Lance woke up with a groan. The first thing he noticed was that he was alone in the bed, the cold sheets next to him indicating that Keith was long gone. With a drawn out sigh, Lance opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. When he turned his head, he saw the ace of hearts left on the nightstand next to his phone and smiled softly. But then he registered his phone and the smile died on his lips. _Fuck._ Allura was going to kill him, no questions asked. Grimacing, Lance scrubbed a hand through his wild hair, shuffling off to the shower. He tried his best to look presentable and arranged his clothes to cover most of the hickeys and scratches Keith had left. He powered up his phone with an impending sense of dread. To his surprise, except for two calls when Keith had turned off the phone, Allura had left him alone except for a lone text. It said ‘Meet me when you’re done.’  
  
Resolving himself to be yelled at, and to totally deserve it, Lance squared his shoulders and headed down to the casino, where he knew he’d find Allura. Once found, she regarded him coolly.  
  
“I hope you appreciate how lucky you are.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Lance was taken aback at the lack of yelling. He peered around curiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
“Your…customer, Mr. Kogane, paid me for the days you missed. He apologized and took responsibility for turning off your mobile. He also left you something, but before I give it to you, I want you to pay attention: don’t you dare pull a stunt like that again.”  
  
Lance rubbed his eyes. Keith had paid for his sick days? Allura wasn’t that mad at him? Whose life was he living? This wasn't his beautiful boss! Before he had a chance to get sucked into a Talking Heads existential crisis, Allura was pressing an envelope into his hand. He fumbled it open. A room key for Caesar’s Palace and a scrap of paper with a phone number scribbled on the back fell out. Flipping over the paper, Lance saw that it was the back of a flyer for an exclusive poker tournament starting in a few nights. Allura examined her immaculately painted nails casually.  
  
“Actually, he paid me enough to cover a few more days off for you. Given the contents of the envelope, it seems likely that he wants you to come meet him.”  
  
“Wait I’ve been absent for days and you’re telling me to go take some more off? And meet up with him?”  
  
“You _did_ promise me that you’d get him to come back here. He’s not the type you should let get away. Now shoo!”  
  
She shooed Lance, totally baffled and squinting in the daylight, out towards the strip. Clutching his jacket, the envelope, and his phone, Lance stumbled in the general direction. He wasn’t a gambler, but this time? He’d gotten really lucky.


End file.
